


Plot.

by Hungry_AloeLeaf



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Fluff, Grieving, Minor Violence, Perhaps spoilers for The Darkness Within sneak peek, Still terrible at titles, may edit after posting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hungry_AloeLeaf/pseuds/Hungry_AloeLeaf
Summary: “I… I can’t do this.” Smokehaze truly wouldn’t have wanted it. Then again, she wasn't aware what he’d been capable of before her birth. He wasn’t even sure that he was capable now, that she was gone...“You can. You’re ruthless.”
Relationships: Breezepelt/Heathertail (Warriors)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. do it for me.

“You know that you want this as much as I do.”

Breezepelt tenses, whiskers twitching when a tail floats under his chin.

“I can tell that you miss it.” The voice vibrates against his shoulders, sending chills and shivers to the base of his tail. “The taste of their blood… the feel of their fur tearing underneath your claws…”

The mew pauses, and a warm muzzle presses against Breezepelt’s shivering pelt.

“You miss _your daughter_.”

The Windclan tom flinches away, blinking back the tears prickling his honey-colored eyes. The moon’s glowing ominously overhead, turning them a beautiful silver in the glowing stretch on the grasslands. He swallows back the sob in his throat when a set of green eyes connect with his.

“He tried to take mine too. He had no right.” The mew’s edged with fury now.

“I… I can’t do this.” Smokehaze truly wouldn’t have wanted it. Then again, she wasn't aware what he’d been capable of before her birth. He wasn’t even sure that he was capable now, that she was gone...

“You can. You’re ruthless.” The tabby’s practically silver under the light when they slip in front of the black tom. “You nearly destroyed an invincible tom underneath your own claws. You can take a weak, pathetic, elderly flesh-bag. For her.”

Breezepelt takes a pawstep back.

“For me!” The tabby insists, growing more irritated by the moment. “I cannot do this, but you can! And you know he’s to blame for your daughter’s death!”

His claws dig into the soft earth.

_His precious flower…_

“He tried to take one of the cats I loved as well. He already has! Do you think I do not feel what you are feeling? If you think that I feel no remorse for wanting this, you have multitudes of bees clouding your head!”

“I’ll do it.” Tears slip down his face as he utters the words.

The tabby leans back on their haunches, a smirk of satisfaction crossing the muzzle.

“Good…” The cat purrs, leaning closer once again, planting a comforting lick to Breezepelt’s cheek. “I knew I could count on you, old friend.”

“Indeed.”

A new voice breaks into the brisk night air.

Breezepelt doesn’t have to turn, the brown-and-white pelt brushes against his cold one, the lavender scent is so familiar.

“I’m sure that my warrior has made the right decision.” Harestar dips his head to the tabby, eyes gleaming in excitement. His eyes have always been strange. Sometimes violet, other times vibrant green, other times burning amber. They’re violet tonight.

Perhaps just to remind him of Smokehaze.

When Breezepelt looks at him, all he sees is a tom who thinks he’s doing what’s best.

“He certainly has.” The tabby replies, nuzzling Harestar’s cheek next. “Now I must be off. She’ll begin to worry if I’m not by her side.”

“Be off then. Safe travels.” The Windclan leader drapes his plumy tail over Breezepelt’s back. “Come. We should return or your she-cat will begin to fret as well, hmm?”

“…Yes, sir.” Breezepelt keeps his gaze at the ground, the same ground his Smokehaze resides in, and the tom’s words beat around in his head. _He’s to blame for your daughter’s death!_

“Don’t be so formal, Breeze.” A tongue rasps over his ear, but that ear isn’t listening to the tongue that speaks. “You do your job, and everything will be right once more. No one else we care about will be harmed.”

_He’s to blame for your daughter’s death!_

Fury furls in his chest, hot and itching, the sensation driving down to his outstretched claws.

_He’s to blame for your daughter’s death!_

He… he is to blame for Smokehaze’s death.

She had an entire life of happiness ahead of her, happiness with him, her mother, her sisters.

 _He took. it. all. away_.

“I recognize that face,” Harestar sounds strangely victorious when Breezepelt’s eyes narrow; his muzzle curls. “Ah, it’s been so long… thought you were going to stay soft forever.”

Breezepelt has no time to revel in his rage with his friend, he only breaks into a sprint.

Tomorrow – tomorrow will contain an eventful night he needed to rest for.

The imposter was his to mangle.

_She would be avenged._


	2. fight for me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are we going out here for?"
> 
> "Mm... for the training we used to do, back in the day. You could use a little refresher."

“We’ve seen his fighting style. He wants to fight like he’s a fresh warrior, but he’s clunky,” Harestar lowers himself to the ground. “Hindered. But never underestimate.”

Breezepelt can’t deny the spark of nervousness that flares anew in his chest.

Daylight is flooding the grassy lands, and once again, they’re alone in the clearing. Heathertail certainly seemed suspicious as to why he was going out so early – but rest hadn’t come easily for him anyways.

All he could think about was his new task, what he was risking, and what he had already lost.

And he is a little apprehensive about this.

He hasn’t… attacked anyone, at least not outside of battle (and not with the intention to _kill_ ) in what seems like forever. Typically, his rage would fuel him, unwavering, but – it is fleeting as of the moment.

Harestar, below him, waggles his tail eagerly.

His eyes are green today, piercing Breezepelt expectantly as he prowls closer.

“Come on! You’ll be striking at nightfall; he may be sleeping.” The lime green orbs glitter at him. “The first move is yours.”

“I know,” Breezepelt snaps, ears pinning back. “Just give me a moment.”

“You won’t have a moment,” Harestar replies, mew fiery with irritation. “Honestly, guards could scent you, and that’ll be that. He could wake and take you down right then. Or you’ll give yourself more time to lose your nerve like you’re doing right now!”

“I’m not losing my nerve!” The black-furred tom spits. He lost his kit already. He couldn’t afford to lose anything or anyone else.

“Then prove it, _ruthless_. Don’t hold back.”

His claws are already digging into the earth before he lunges, marring the glossy pelt with three well-aimed red stripes. When he drops to his paws, they’re suddenly knocked out from beneath him, and a fresh wound stings his cheek, blood spurting across his face, warm and fresh and sticky.

_Perhaps he was right last night._

He did miss this…

He bounds upwards, collides with Harestar, and they’re tumbling down the descent of the hill, clawing and biting, muffling whatever yowls of pain threaten to come – in case someone might be near. Harestar tosses him off near the base of the hill, sneering, shaking the scarlet drops from his once-groomed fur.

“Is that all you have in you?”

“Is that a challenge?” Breezepelt hunkers down, grinning with blood-stained teeth at the bite on Harestar’s shoulder.

“…It’s a threat.” A brown-and-white blur hurtles toward him, a paw striking down from the air, but Breezepelt catches it in his claws.

The harsh blow directly to his diaphragm is unexpected – the breath shoots straight out of his lungs, and he’s left gasping dreadfully on the grass. Harestar’s claws glint in the sunlight.

“You were a good warrior.” The only clue that the tom’s not actually about to slay him is the laughter sneaking into his mew. “And I’m sorry that I have to do this.”

“Me too,” The warrior croaks out.

Harestar yelps when a black paw shoots out and drags him to the ground beside his old friend. He cuffs Breezepelt’s ear with a cross hiss, but the black tom had recovered by this time, leaping on top of the brown-and-white tom with a victorious crow.

“Dead.” Breezepelt ducks downwards, drawing his tongue over Harestar’s neck, relishing the squirming beneath his paws. “I win.”

“Not dead enough,” Harestar quirks a brow mischievously. “Hey.” He suddenly meows, smiling.

“What?” Breezepelt secures his position on the tom, keeping him pinned.

The only response is a sloppy lick to his nose.

The black-furred tom shoots upwards with a holler of repulsion, giving Harestar the perfect opportunity to scoot out from under him, and deal a whack to set him off balance.

Harestar giggles as Breezepelt furiously wipes his muzzle.

“Distracted?”

“I’m going to _distract_ your fur off!”

And he tackles the Windclan leader once again, and the training continues on. And on.

Dusk falls, the sky flooded with rosy sunset color when they stop. Harestar understandably looks more worried than Breezepelt now.

“Stars, your father’s going to kill me for this. I left him to tend to the Clan practically all day…”

“So?” The warrior’s ruffled and scratched sides are heaving when he curls beside the bloodied brown-and-white tom. “He’ll be fine, and so will the Clan.”

“I suppose.” The leader sighs, resting his head on the black-furred shoulder. “One thing I know – Kestrel’s going to kill us too.”

“Nothing we haven’t faced before.”

Harestar’s weak smile is the only reply that comes. Breezepelt noses the scratched pelt.

“Might as well clean ourselves up before we go. Maybe hunt a bit too, so it doesn’t look too suspicious, you know?”

“ _Mm…_ ” The drowsy-looking tom flicks his plumy tail wordlessly over his spine. “Could you get my back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this was okay! Not really sure how to write fighting scenes, but hopefully this suffices. was struggling a little with tenses throughout this
> 
> As a reminder (that I honestly should say more often) kudos, hits, comments, and bookmarks are always appreciated!! This is the sort of thing I would ask for constructive criticism on, so if you happen to have any *points eagerly at box below* I'm all ears!


End file.
